The Cerberus Rebellion
by Joshua K. Johnson
On the world of Zaria, Elves, magic and mythical beasts coexist beside rifles and railroads. The futures of two nations hang in the balance as rebels and revolutionaries trade gunfire with loyalists and tyrants.
The King of Ansgar, secure in his belief that his loyal nobles and fearful subjects answer to his every whim, seeks to gain favor with friends across the sea. But his decision to send armies thousands of miles away will test that fear, and loyalty.
In war, little is held back; in revolution, nothing is safe.
Magnus reined up his horse in front of the largest tent pavilion he had ever seen.
“And whose tent is this?” The gaudy purple canvas tent structure stood twenty feet at the center pole, at least twelve at the edge and was more than a hundred feet on each side.
“Your Grace, it is mine!” a short man announced and then bowed. “Sir Byron Alfson, of Harristown.”
“Ah, sir, you have me at a disadvantage.”
Magnus inspected the knight with narrowed eyes.
He had a mop of frail-looking brown hair tied into a short ponytail and a narrow nose that was flanked by light blue eyes. He wore a greatcoat that looked like it had been cut from the same fabric as his tent.
Harristown was one of the small villages that had sprouted up along the rail lines that ran from Agilard to Aetheston. The strange grape beer that had made the town famous gave its color to everything the town did. They had even changed their sigil to a purple field with a golden mug.
“This is quite the pavilion,” Magnus continued after a moment. “I didn’t know that the grape beer business had so much money to be made.”
“We do our best, Your Grace,” the knight said. “I hope my pavilion does not offend you, Your Grace. While it is my tent, I have shared it with many of the knights from Lord Tallet’s levies.”
“It does not offend,” Magnus lied. If he had his way, the knights would be sleeping in camp tents with the rest of his soldiers. But his advisors had warned him that not giving the knights and lesser lords their symbols of pride and authority could drive them away. He had been reluctant to accept the counsel, but in the end the tradition of tent pavilions and knightly feasts had been upheld. “Carry on, Sir Alfson.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” The knight bowed again and disappeared into his purple monstrosity.
Joshua will be awarding an ebook containing short stories set in the same world as the novel, The Chesian Wars to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
He currently lives in Northern Illinois with his wife and young children.
You can visit his website at www.gunpowderfantasy.com